Whilst the king was directing his course rapidly towards the
wing of the castle occupied by the cardinal, taking nobody
with him but his valet de chambre, the officer of musketeers
came out, breathing like a man who has for a long time been
forced to hold his breath, from the little cabinet of which
we have already spoken, and which the king believed to be
quite solitary. This little cabinet had formerly been part
of the chamber, from which it was only separated by a thin
partition. It resulted that this partition, which was only
for the eye, permitted the ear the least indiscreet to hear
every word spoken in the chamber.

There was no doubt, then, that this lieutenant of musketeers
had heard all that passed in his majesty's apartment.

Warned by the last words of the young king, he came out just
in time to salute him on his passage, and to follow him with
his eyes till he had disappeared in the corridor.

Then as soon as he had disappeared, he shook his head after
a fashion peculiarly his own, and in a voice which forty
years' absence from Gascony had not deprived of its Gascon
accent, "A melancholy service," said he, "and a melancholy
master!"

These words pronounced, the lieutenant resumed his place in
his fauteuil, stretched his legs and closed his eyes, like a
man who either sleeps or meditates.

During this short monologue and the mise en scene that had
accompanied it, whilst the king, through the long corridors
of the old castle, proceeded to the apartment of M. de
Mazarin, a scene of another sort was being enacted in those
apartments.

Mazarin was in bed, suffering a little from the gout. But as
he was a man of order, who utilized even pain, he forced his
wakefulness to be the humble servant of his labor. He had
consequently ordered Bernouin, his valet de chambre, to
bring him a little traveling-desk, so that he might write in
bed. But the gout is not an adversary that allows itself to
be conquered so easily; therefore, at each movement he made,
the pain from dull became sharp.

"Ah! yes; that's right. Upon Madrid four millions. I give
you to understand plainly to whom this money belongs,
Bernouin, seeing that everybody has the stupidity to believe
me rich in millions. I repel the silly idea. A minister,
besides, has nothing of his own. Come, go on. Rentrees
generales, seven millions; properties, nine millions. Have
you written that, Bernouin?"

"Doubtless, as clear, as transparent as possible. These
thirty-nine millions are bespoken, and much more."

Bernouin smiled after his own fashion -- that is, like a man
who believes no more than he is willing to believe -- whilst
preparing the cardinal's night draught, and putting his
pillow to rights.

"Oh!" said Mazarin, when the valet had gone out; "not yet
forty millions! I must, however, attain that sum, which I
had set down for myself. But who knows whether I shall have
time? I sink, I am going, I shall never reach it! And yet,
who knows that I may not find two or three millions in the
pockets of my good friends the Spaniards? They discovered
Peru, those people did, and -- what the devil! they must
have something left."

As he was speaking thus, entirely occupied with his ciphers,
and thinking no more of his gout, repelled by a
preoccupation which, with the cardinal, was the most
powerful of all preoccupations, Bernouin rushed into the
chamber, quite in a fright.

"How? -- the king!" said Mazarin, quickly concealing his
paper. "The king here! the king at this hour! I thought he
was in bed long ago. What is the matter, then?"

The king could hear these last words, and see the terrified
gesture of the cardinal rising up in his bed, for he entered
the chamber at that moment.

"It is nothing, monsieur le cardinal, or at least nothing
which can alarm you. It is an important communication which
I wish to make to your eminence to-night -- that is all."

Mazarin immediately thought of that marked attention which
the king had given to his words concerning Mademoiselle de
Mancini, and the communication appeared to him probably to
refer to this source. He recovered his serenity then
instantly, and assumed his most agreeable air, a change of
countenance which inspired the king with the greatest joy;
and when Louis was seated, --

"Sire," said the cardinal, "I ought certainly to listen to
your majesty standing, but the violence of my complaint ----
"

"No ceremony between us, my dear monsieur le cardinal," said
Louis kindly: "I am your pupil, and not the king, you know
very well, and this evening in particular, as I come to you
as a petitioner, as a solicitor, and one very humble, and
desirous to be kindly received, too."

Mazarin, seeing the heightened color of the king, was
confirmed in his first idea; that is to say, that love
thoughts were hidden under all these fine words. This time,
political cunning, keen as it was, made a mistake; this
color was not caused by the bashfulness of a juvenile
passion, but only by the painful contraction of the royal
pride.

Like a good uncle, Mazarin felt disposed to facilitate the
confidence.

"Speak, sire," said he, "and since your majesty is willing
for an instant to forget that I am your subject, and call me
your master and instructor, I promise your majesty my most
devoted and tender consideration."

"Thanks, monsieur le cardinal," answered the king; "that
which I have to ask of your eminence has but little to do
with myself."

"So much the worse!" replied the cardinal, "so much the
worse! Sire, I should wish your majesty to ask of me
something of importance, even a sacrifice; but whatever it
may be that you ask me, I am ready to set your heart at rest
by granting it, my dear sire."

"Well, this is what brings me here," said the king, with a
beating of the heart that had no equal except the beating of
the heart of the minister; "I have just received a visit
from my brother, the king of England."

Mazarin bounded in his bed as if he had been put in relation
with a Leyden jar or a voltaic pile, at the same time that a
surprise, or rather a manifest disappointment, inflamed his
features with such a blaze of anger, that Louis XIV., little
diplomatist as he was, saw that the minister had hoped to
hear something else.

"Charles II.?" exclaimed Mazarin, with a hoarse voice and a
disdainful movement of his lips. "You have received a visit
from Charles II.?"

"From King Charles II.," replied Louis, according in a
marked manner to the grandson of Henry IV. the title which
Mazarin had forgotten to give him. "Yes, monsieur le
cardinal, that unhappy prince has touched my heart with the
relation of his misfortunes. His distress is great, monsieur
le cardinal, and it has appeared painful to me, who have
seen my own throne disputed, who have been forced in times
of commotion to quit my capital, -- to me, in short, who am
acquainted with misfortune, -- to leave a deposed and
fugitive brother without assistance."

"Eh!" said the cardinal, sharply; "why had he not, as you
have, a Jules Mazarin by his side? His crown would then have
remained intact."

"I know all that my house owes to your eminence," replied
the king, haughtily, "and you may believe well that I, on my
part, shall never forget it. It is precisely because my
brother the king of England has not about him the powerful
genius who has saved me, it is for that, I say, that I wish
to conciliate the aid of that same genius, and beg you to
extend your arm over his head, well assured, monsieur le
cardinal, that your hand, by touching him only, would know
how to replace upon his brow the crown which fell at the
foot of his father's scaffold."

"Sire," replied Mazarin, "I thank you for your good opinion
with regard to myself, but we have nothing to do yonder:
they are a set of madmen who deny God, and cut off the heads
of their kings. They are dangerous, observe, sire, and
filthy to the touch after having wallowed in royal blood and
covenantal murder. That policy has never suited me, -- I
scorn it and reject it."

"Good heavens!" cried Mazarin, "does the poor prince flatter
himself with that chimera?"

"Yes, he does," replied the young king, terrified at the
difficulties opposed to this project, which he fancied he
could perceive in the infallible eye of his minister; "he
only asks for a million to carry out his purpose."

"Is that all -- a little million, if you please!" said the
cardinal, ironically, with an effort to conquer his Italian
accent. "A little million, if you please, brother! Bah! a
family of mendicants!"

"Cardinal," said Louis, raising his head, "that family of
mendicants is a branch of my family."

"Are you rich enough to give millions to other people, sire?
Have you millions to throw away?"

"Oh!" replied Louis XIV., with great pain, which he,
however, by a strong effort, prevented from appearing on his
countenance; -- "oh! yes, monsieur le cardinal, I am well
aware I am poor, and yet the crown of France is worth a
million, and to perform a good action I would pledge my
crown if it were necessary. I could find Jews who would be
willing to lend me a million."

"What, do you still doubt, sire?" said the cardinal. "Well,
here is a proof of what I said."

And Mazarin drew from under his bolster the paper covered
with figures, which he presented to the king, who turned
away his eyes, his vexation was so deep.

"Therefore, as it is a million you want, sire, and that
million is not set down here, it is forty-six millions your
majesty stands in need of. Well I don't think that any Jews
in the world would lend such a sum, even upon the crown of
France."

The king, clenching his hands beneath his ruffles, pushed
away his chair.

"So it must be then!" said he, "my brother the king of
England will die of hunger."

"Sire," replied Mazarin, in the same tone, "remember this
proverb, which I give you as the expression of the soundest
policy: `Rejoice at being poor when your neighbor is poor
likewise.'"

Louis meditated for a few moments, with an inquisitive
glance directed to the paper, one end of which remained
under the bolster.

"Then," said he, "it is impossible to comply with my demand
for money, my lord cardinal, is it?"